Losing Control

CONTAINS- sexual violence, drug use and abuse

My head is POUNDING.

"Eh I must have blacked out," I blink my eyes rapidly as they adjust to the sun pouring in from a high small window and scan my surroundings.

A garage, I’ve got a fucking real-life handcuff on and I'm locked to a fucking pipe.

No ominous dripping noises, this fucker was IMMACULATE the garage was impeccably clean. It was the lack of shit and anything at all that freaked me the fuck out. Not one speck of dust and it reeked of bleach.

"Ok, ok," I soothe myself. "You are being dramatic."

My true crime reads were a bit too sinister, it was tainting my world view.

It was not unheard off that I was capable of going home with some questionable fuckers.

I would go to their place and drink more alcohol, once the bar cut us off. Then reject the mother fucker who thought he'd have a chance simply because I went home with him.

I lift my mid length floral black and white summer dress to check I've still got my knickers on.

I half shrug, probably some macho hero didn't take well to me declaring I was heading home after seeing a girl out drink him with his impressive stash of alcohol.

A bar tender once said my long legs were the secret to my ability to out drink his best drunks at the bar.

I rub my head willing for something, some memories to come to the surface.

Him

I pace around upstairs scrubbing my long-in desperate need of a cut-hair.

"This is it," the thoughts race through my head loud, "I've finally lost my mind."

"You're bloody fucking useless! Like your father!" Her blues eyes flash, icy cold.

"No," I moan "go away!!!"

"I'll go away when I can be sure you've finally sorted your shit out young man!" She screams at me; I flinch awaiting the inevitable blow.

Forgetting only her voice had returned.

I grab my eyes and fling myself down on the couch sobbing.

When I finally got a good look at the girl, in the moonlight. As we stumbled out of the pub I half glimpsed at her dopey face. Then I had to stop and look. Really look at her face.

Her eyes opened fully, momentarily, flashing that unmistakable blue. Icey cold, before she passed out.

The recognition stole my breath away. She has mum's fucking eyes. The panic had me handcuff her to a drain pipe in the garage.

Then I back tracked my way out of the garage so fast.

I've been awake ever since, arguing with mum's fucking ghost, her cold harsh tone a light in my head.

Mum's voice; "Useless waste of fucking space."

I grabbed my shirt and this time it was my scream I was stifling. Not some trashy woman I picked up off the street.

Remi

I become aware of how dry my mouth is. Whatever the fuck his point was I had enough.

"Righto fucker!" I scream towards the door, shaking my cuff for an added effect.

"Point made. Let me the fuck out!" I knew how to flip. Be a bitch.

Silence. "Has he gone out? Does anyone even know I'm here?" My mind races with these thoughts.

"Hey!!" I scream; I'm losing it now. I've had enough. I needed to do something.

"Stop!" A shaky male voice speaks from the door.

"Please stop!! I can't take it."

He moans. A broken man. Clearly sobbing.

“Well fuck.” Comes to mind, suddenly I realise I'm not the victim here that's in need of rescuing.

"He's lucky I'm OBSESSED with self-help books and psychology." I ponder. Control. Take control and so I do.

Him

She immediately goes quiet.

Mum too.

I need to shake off my perpetual fogginess which was threatening to consume me all together these days and fucking think.

The plan. I was going to let this girl go.

I still didn't trust that after all this time it was actually her.

I had seen so many versions of her in strangers over all this time, I didn't trust my own eyes anymore.

I just had to get the balls to do it.

She had a sharp brazen tongue; I knew that much.

She was meek though she would never put up a fight. She knew deep down the man had full control.

Yet, facing up to the past again rendered me useless.

The potential of further rejection, sucker punched me and left me breathless.

"Don't you know I do these things because I love you darling?" Sickly sweet, drunk mother whispers to me and I pale. Mum’s touch could be so comforting.

The intense urge to vomit hits me but then she speaks again.

Remi

"I'm sorry, it was me, right? I can be a bitch," I chuckle to myself and lift up my cuffed hand.

"Please, let me go,"

I know my soft sweet voice can have an effect on men. Sometimes. Depends how much of the capital B they've met. I hope this guy hasn't received too much, yet the handcuff wasn't a good sign.

I'm shocked when he slowly opens the door.

He's muscular, tan, kind of hot. Yet, fashion was stuck in the early 2000's with DC shoes, limp bizkit baggy white tee shirt and low riding baggy denim shorts, were an absolute vagina shriveller.

He had long unkept dark hair, almost using his long greasy fringe to hide from me.

Despite this he looked sluggish...

Weak as hell.

As though he was intimidated by me.

Jeeze, what did I pull on this guy?

He comes closer and lifts his face. Sniffing.

"Gee, you still wear that candy flavour perfume huh?"

He smiles as his hair reveals his face. His stunning green eyes.

I immediately feel it in my stomach and the memory suddenly hits me.

I pale as I finally remember, some key moments from my first black out.

I'm 18 and it's the first time I've ever drank alcohol.

I feel weak, heavy, nauseated I'm barely able to move.

I'm lying on my stomach on the couch at the house party I crashed.

A whooping lone laugh then a male voice puts on a low tone by cupping his mouth.

"Taxxxxiiii,"

He then smiles softly at me, lust in his green eyes.

"Hey, you," he simpers with a half-smile.

He is kind of cute; I'm not in the mood.

I want to be sick.

"Fuck off," I groan.

He giggles.

Before I pass out fully, I hear a zipper.

I mumbled; voice muffled;

He didn't hear me; I don't know what I said.

"I knew you loved me." He confidently replied though. I never forgot that.

Never forgot that I couldn't find my knickers the next morning.

I also hadn't forgotten.

"You're so wasted; it was your idea." He whispered to me "you were there, waiting for me."

This present day the missing pieces made the bile rise up in my throat.

I lower my eyes at him;

"Fuck off," I hiss through my teeth.

I feel my body tremble with adrenaline.

He giggles and I heave.

He eyes the handcuff, my body half bent over as I try and fight off the nausea.

I see excitement lighting up his green eyes.

Then he's distracted, his face goes cold as he says;

"Mum! I told you I have control of this!" He gives his head a small shake and closes his eyes momentarily.

"This one does love me! I know she does," He speaks this softly.

I inhale slowly and exhale.

Shake the memory out of my head.

If I could just remember the fuckers name, we went to a small school everyone "knew of" everyone else. I can remember before the party, he'd smile at me in the corridors at school.

I'd smile back; I smiled back at everyone.

Another memory hits me now.

The strange feeling that came over me when this guy looked, almost crushed when I told HIM to "fuck off," as he'd approached me at school.

In this moment it takes everything in me to softly look up at him and smile as I say;

"I'm sorry I iced you out after the party."

He freezes, then smiles back at me, his body softening.

I frantically keep talking, I recall he is talking to his mother.

"Do you miss your mum?" It was well known in school his mum had taken her own life, a month after the party.

He creeps closer and squats down on the floor sitting with his knees drawn up as he hugs his knees and gazes at me like a giant toddler.

"You know you kind of look like mum," his eyes flash with regret as instantly as it escapes his lips.

He notices my slight repulsion as I flinch, and I quickly hide it.

"Oh how?" I gaze at him, inching slightly towards him.

He shuffles closer to me.

He looks down and shakes his head. Knowing well enough that no girl was keen to dive into the depths of how much like the guy's mum they looked.

His next choice of conversation wasn't much better;

"I didn't recognise you, ya know. When I chose you, do you remember me Remi?"

Him

When I saw her, I was just going through the motions.

Another night another overwhelming impulse to fulfil that thrill, the buzz.

I have just been feeling so burnt out.

My target was always based on how I remembered Remi.

Auburn mid length hair, lean and incredible blue eyes.

Anything, to recapture the buzz of that night back when I was 18 in 2008- five years ago now- I was now 23.

The girl at the bar was curvy, older, with arm sleeve tattoos; she DID have auburn hair.

She turned away to talk to the bar guy, he didn't see me. Didn't notice me.

Feeling reckless, I haphazardly flung the drug into her mock tail.

Half expecting to get caught.

Then I sat back and waited or her to get drowsy, until I swoop in.

Play the concerned boyfriend and hustle this "poor girl" home to bed.

Never in a million years would I have expected to get the actual fucking Remi.

She had moved away from our town straight after high school. I tried to find her on the socials but never could.

The game for me is usually take them home to bed, not fucking handcuffed in the garage.

I made sure I would whisper to them while they are drugged to their EYEBALLS about how wasted they are. How it wasn't a good idea, yet it was THEIR idea. Not mine, to take it this far. Stealing their knickers.

The absolute SHAME on their face when they realise what THEY had done while blackout drunk, when they woke up the next morning.

Me, softly confessing they'd declared THEY were in love with me. Knowing they'd never fully remember.

Absolutely fucking thrilling. Just lately, not as much.

It isn't too late though. I had her smiling again.

Imagine what else I could get her to do for me. Maybe, this could be a new edge to my old game.

I pull the key to the handcuff out and look at it carefully. I would let her go. I just had to know one thing first.

Remi

When he pulled out the key, I had to stop myself from looking too eager. Drag my eyes to his face.

He had aged perfectly, in different circumstances. I probably would have considered him.

Of course, the clothes were a blast from the past that belonged back in the 2000s, I could definitely coax him into a new fashion. I forced myself to think like this.

"Yes," I whisper "I do, remember."

I ignore my screaming instincts, my racing heart, sweaty palms and nausea.

"Did you love me Remi?" He quickly looks away after he says it.

Cringes a bit, flicks his hand as though shooing someone away.

I swallow bile, shaking my head from the flashes of memories that wash over me at this moment.

Everyone at school heard I'd had sex that night, residual evidence in a condom wrapper, me not being able to find my knickers. My reputation absolutely tarnished.

Small town mentality, I guess. Guys high five each other and the girls slapped with derogatory labels.

"Of course," I whisper, gazing at him. Tears springing to my eyes.

For a moment there, I thought I had him. He gazed back at me softly.

Then something flashes in his eyes.

"Why didn't you talk to me then!! You told me to fuck off," he shouts at my face spittle hitting me.

We both ignore this.

He shakes his head as if to compose himself, however, remains staring at me intently.

After, the party I had stopped smiling back at people and if they stared too long, I told them to fuck off.

"I felt like a slut," I tell the truth, and my eyes swell with tears.

He eyes me carefully, making a move to unlock the handcuffs.

He tsks and laughs.

"Ya right, I guess it was kind of slutty," the remark slaps me, and I have to fight everything in me not to cower and not to flinch as he touches me.

"You like to get absolutely trashed, don't you?" He coos.

He smells is suddenly familiar too, off body odour mixed with cheap lynx body spray.

My whole body wants to shrink away.

"Please, don't fail me now," I coax my body.

I sensed this guy was immune to every single flash of rejection and this could be my only chance.

When I'm uncuffed, it takes measurable self-control not to flee.

Him

My heart feels giddy. Finally, after all these years we could be together again. I wasn't hearing things that night. She had said she loved me. No-one else since would say it to me.

My mum's voice finally vanishes and I feel light.

I have to play it cool to keep myself from grinning like an absolute Nimrod.

I square my shoulders, raise my head and softly grab her hand.

It's sweaty, I almost chuckle at this. I'm making her nervous.

A slut, she was just embarrassed she gave it away so soon, so quickly. If only she'd mentioned that back then!

I mean she did reject everyone after that. No-one else could probably measure up.

I try not to beam.

She tentatively sits in one of the kitchen chairs.

Her eyes darting around my immaculate kitchen.

"Hadn't done too bad eh," I smile gesturing to the high-end, hard to fucking use, kitchen appliances.

She is speechless.

I guess she didn't expect me to end up wealthy.

No-one would have. The quiet, greasy loner from high school. His own mother used to even hate.

Even the other girls started off repulsed by me. Ridiculed me.

One raising her eyebrows as she mocked me at the bar.

"Brah, she said see you later skater boy."

She didn't make eye contact the next day. Wasn't brave enough to ask where her knickers were. Never asked for them back.

None of them ever did. I had quite an impressive stash in my bedroom drawer.

Making love means love. That's what my mum told me anyway. I now know for sure; Remi DOES love me.

I grab some cranberry juice from the fridge, using the door to hide, I slip in a roofie.

It's always so, so much more fun this way.

I like to replay the first night with Remi. The first time I offered her a drugged drink.

I pass her the water; I know she so desperately wants.

"Good for you, cranberry juice. Especially sexually active women,"

Remi

"Fucking man's plaining cranberry juice, the fuck," I raise my eyebrows and force a smile.

I take the juice off him. I am so fucking thirsty. My lips are dry and my throat hurts. I take it to my lips.

"Just one tiny little drip," My brain screams at me.

I force myself to stop. Look him dead in the eye.

I spent years blaming myself. That night. My smile. My drinking. But I wasn’t smiling when I passed out. I wasn’t drinking when I was handcuffed to a pipe.

"Fuck you," I say and I throw the juice straight at his face. I don't stop to think I leap up and sprint for the door.

To my relief the door flings open easily. Classic Australia, with the push button locks.

I don't look back at him as I run.

I know I look insane, the more noise the better. All the more control I have, taken back.

"Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off!!!" I scream.

I stop running when I realise, I have finally escaped.

I have escaped and now I can finally bring down the fucker that has been dragging me down all these years. I make my way to the police station.

Him

I didn't chase her. I watched, frozen, the red juice dripping down my face and staining my white band shirt red. My ears are ringing. Until a voice;

"Who is it?" mum hisses in my ear "that you really want to know loves you?" Mocking me again.

A woman I could never work out. Never gain control of any situation with her. I feel like a child again.

"FUCK OFF MUM!" I roar.

I've never been able to raise my voice at her before. Stand up to her.

It's quiet, she's already gone.